


When Prussia Is Not Making War

by HeartofCanada (Tassledown), Tassledown



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cold War Era, Friendly talking, Human Names Used, M/M, This was supposed to be PWP, and then they started talking, boot fetish, food talk, no really, slightly rough sex, transgender character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 07:27:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3111203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/HeartofCanada, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tassledown/pseuds/Tassledown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Russia has forgotten the passage of time again and Prussia's sick of waiting for him to remember on his own. He's not going to be an asshole about it, but he will make him leave his room; at least it will be something to do around the house. Prussia manages to be nice to Russia, and Russia reciprocates and both of them have a good day while the rest of the Soviet Bloc are out of the house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Prussia Is Not Making War

Gilbert hated being someone else's vassal. It was the most frustrating situation he could imagine being in. That it was Russia didn't make things that much better – it could be worse, he admitted, it could be England – but Russia was that kid he used to pick fights with when the guy was still a gawky teenager. 

Living with him made him feel old. 

At least he was finally well enough to wander around the house, what with the land Russia had stolen and claimed for the Soviet Union. Not that he'd needed it; he'd have gotten better without him fucking over his little brother to get it, although the look on England's face had been worth it, to show up at the meeting and throw it in his face that he'd failed to kill him and he still had to live with him.

Russia had stopped him throttling the Empire and after they got back to his house, Gilbert had stalked off and refused to talk to him in response. However, it had now been five days and Russia hadn't left his room. Liet had found the last food he delivered outside the door untouched and Gilbert would be shot before he'd let the bastard hole up in there like it was full-on famine again.

He wasn't rude, though. He knocked on the door and waited for a reply before he walked in.

Just because the reply was “Please go away,” didn't meant he was being rude. Five days was long enough.

Russia looked up from his desk by the window and sighed heavily.”Ah. It's you.”

“Yep.” Gilbert closed the door behind himself and crossed his arms. “You do realize it's been five days, right?”

Russia tightened his grip on his pen and scowled at him. He didn't reply and Gilbert suspected he'd guessed correctly. He walked over to the desk and leaned his hips on the edge.

“You know, if you actually went to your office you'd have that silly calender Polen gave you that'd help you remember days going by.”

“It is Sunday,” Russia said firmly.

“You can see the church from your window. The meeting you had to drag me away from England at was on Monday.”

“I have left my room.”

Gilbert put all his skepticism into his face, but added, “You can order me to leave, you know.”

Russia relaxed his grip on his pen in surprise and pushed his chair back to stare at him better. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I'm not here to berate you, I'm here to try and get your ass out of your room in case you're not managing to remember the rest of the house exists on your own. But I'm not going to stick around if you want to go back to whatever paperwork you have stashed here.” He gestured at the mess on Russia's desk. 

“You confuse me.” Russia groaned. “Why do you bother?”

“Because it's annoying trying to hate someone who can't remember the day of the week. It's much easier to pick a fight with Natalia since she got up out of bed; kind of the same thing.”

“Are you wishing me to make you less bored again, is that it? Do you miss the blood?”

Gilbert snorted. “I know it's confusing, but sometimes I actually take a break from making war.”

Russia gave him a deeply suspicious look and Gilbert raised his hands in submission.

“Yeah, I know, it was a bad first impression this century.”

“I don't believe two wars constitutes a first impression.”

“This _decade_ ,” Gilbert retorted.

“I ran into you many more times than I wished to on the Eastern Front.”

“This _visit?_ ” Gilbert tried.

Russia cracked a smile and Gilbert laughed.

“Hah, you do look cute sometimes.”

Russia quickly closed his mouth and his cheeks turned slightly pink. Gilbert turned his body to face him more with a small smirk. Russia turned away.

“I told you I was not interested in sex, Prussiya.”

“That was a couple years ago. Are you still too burnt out for it?”

“You are my vassal.”

“There's some people who make that creepy, like England. You already vetoed the part where you feel like me being your vassal makes sex a right, so you're gonna have to figure out something else to make that bother me.”

“Several of the others would object to that.”

“They've been vassals more often then I have. It doesn't bother me.” Gilbert shrugged. “If I don't want to have sex with you, I'll let you know. If you don't want to have sex with me still, you're going to have to say that because the last answer you gave didn't.”

“Do you think sex will fix me?”

Gilbert snorted. “Sex and you forgetting what day it is are two separate matters entirely. I'm just bored and if I'm not making war, sex is a good past-time. You know, since you brought up that's how I usually spend my time. No wars to fight, but there's some cute people around. Unfortunately Polen and Liet recently rediscovered each other, so he's lost interest in tying me up for stress-relief.”

“So I'm just a diversion?”

“I'm sorry, were you hoping for romance? That makes vassal things creepy, just to point that out.”

Russia laughed again, a kind of breathless noise. “I should eat. Is the kitchen open?”

“We can go check.”

“I think that would be good, da.”

Gilbert pushed himself up from the desk with a happy noise and stretched as he walked towards the door. He looked over his shoulder and caught Russia looking him over with a pleased eye as he walked away. Gilbert made a point of stretching his legs out as well and Russia's eyes followed them with a curious look.

He didn't comment on Russia's attention, but he did enjoy it and he waited until he reached the hallway to let him catch up and walked next to him until they reached the kitchen. Russia was polite and kept his hands to himself. Gilbert paused by the counters, but when Russia made his way to the cupboards without hesitating he backed off and let him make his own food.

“Have you eaten?” Russia asked.

“Not lunch yet. You gonna cook for two?”

“I can. It would be nice.”

“Sure, something new would be nice.”

“Has Liet not cooked something new?” Russia's voice was cautiously confused.

“He hasn't, no. I'm not gonna do the 'you didn't notice', Russia, relax. Liet actually did that on purpose, or claims he did, so he'd know when we were all recovered – when we complained.”

“Ah.” Russia snorted and Gilbert laughed louder.

“Yeah, I don't think anyone believed him.”

“He was as sick as most of us.”

“He wasn't bedridden; that was the main point. I dread to think what would've happened had we had to ask your boss to send somebody to do housekeeping.”

Russia snorted. “We would have managed.”

“Sure we would've.” Gilbert agreed, letting Russia ignore the sarcasm and carry on with his cooking. He seated himself on part of the unused counterspace and simply watched.  
Poland and Liet and the other Baltics had gone out on one of their many grocery trips, and that was going to take them all day. Belarus and Ukraine were checking up on Hungary, who had refused to live with the rest of them and who had threatened to dismantle the house piece by piece if they tried. She had demonstrated her seriousness on the car of the official visiting to confirm her presence.

Russia's boss hadn't asked about her presence or not since, simply that Russia get the information he needed from her within a reasonable amount of time when it was requested.  
Gilbert tucked one knee up to his chest with a sigh. He liked the company, but it lacked something he missed more than his country and it's name. Something like his brother or Venice or his lovers.

“Prussiya?” Russia asked softly.

Gilbert opened his eyes again and smiled at him. “What is it?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, totally!” Gilbert grinned. “What are you making?”

“Olivye, but we do not have mayonnaise or chicken.”

“Oh, yeah, they're getting more food right now.”

Russia nodded slowly and began to peel the boiled eggs. “Is there a soup?”

“Lemme check.” Gilbert hopped off the counter and checked. “Yeah, there's still some soup and porridge. Just no other meats.”

“This will be fine.”

Gilbert nodded in agreement and snagged the salted ham to chop into pieces, needing something to do with his hands. Between the two of them, the food finished soon and they sat at the table to eat, even as Gilbert picked at his food. 

When Russia was almost done his food he finally took the time to ask, “What is bothering you?”

Gilbert looked up at him in surprise. “What?”

“You look... sad.”

“I'm not sad,” Gilbert said irritably. 

“Perhaps I chose the wrong word.”

Gilbert snorted. “That works better if we're not talking in Russian, Vanya,” he teased.

“It does not matter that it is Russian, Gilbert. I do not make speeches like you.” He stirred the soup again and sipped at it. “I do not need to excuse my lack of words by the language I use.”

“Okay, fine, you're right.” 

Russia stared at him. Gilbert gave him an irritable look. “Now what?”

“I did not believe you ever agreed you were wrong.”

“Oh shut up,” Gilbert grumbled. 

Russia obliged and Gilbert finished his food and stole the dishes Russia had emptied to start washing them. When he finished, Russia added his last dishes to the water and started to dry. Gilbert ignored him and kept at the chore until it was done. He leaned heavily on the counter after and closed his eyes, feeling vaguely faint and disgusted with himself for it. 

Russia noticed. Gilbert could see him stare, consider saying something and then dismiss the first thoughts and complete the chore before he said anything.

“Was that all you wished to do?” Russia said.

Gilbert considered saying yes, and trying to find something to do himself, but he was so tired he knew reading was going to be too hard and he didn't want to be alone.

“Do you want to go back to your bed?”

“You wish to join me?” Russia asked.

“We don't have to have sex,” Gilbert snapped, and made a face. “Forget it.”

“If you wish company, I would be fine if you sat with me.”

“I'm not going to make you give up your bedroom just because I'm bored.”

“This is not a – how should I say - arrangement, it is an offer.” Russia raised his eyebrows at him and Gilbert laughed softly.

“Fine. Thanks.” He took a slow breath and started back up the hallway at a brisk walk. Russia kept up without comment. Gilbert focused on getting to his room without stumbling or anything and, when he arrived, he dropped onto the bed and lounged there to make it clear he wanted to be there and this wasn't a concession to the exhaustion that still trapped him in Russia's house in the first place. 

Russia, for his part, went back to his desk and then asked “Do you read Cyrillic well?”

“No,” Gilbert lied, because the thought of trying to read something made his eyes hurt pre-emptively.

“I do not believe I have many books in latin characters in my room...” he began.

“I don't want to read right now, I'm too tired for it.”

“Ah. If you need to sleep, I will not mind.”

“I don't want to sleep, I just –” Gilbert cut himself off. 

Russia was silent for a long moment and then the bed dipped as he sat down on it. Gilbert looked up at him, confused and ready to snap at him he wasn't demanding sex or attention only to see him holding a stack of papers and a board to rest on his legs, to bring his work to the bed with him.

“You're being weird,” Gilbert said instead.

“Of course,” Russia agreed. His attention was already focused on the papers again. Gilbert stayed lying where he could stare up at him or his work, and eventually shifted to drape his legs over Russia's, so he could watch his face better. 

He was cute, Gilbert decided. Extremely masculine, which he tended to avoid sometimes because it made him feel too small himself, but on Russia it didn't bother him as much. Perhaps because of his personality, but probably just because he was from a starkly different culture. Or maybe a dozen other things. He was still nice to look at, and his focus left his face oddly smooth, blank of attention or reaction to what he was reading. Gilbert didn't think it was on purpose but just how Russia's face usually was, like how most people thought Gilbert himself was up to mischief when he was just relaxing. 

Admittedly, he usually was thinking of some kind of mischief when he was relaxing, but it wasn't like he was trying to give himself away by looking like it. 

After a while, when Gilbert felt a little more active, he waited until Russia put aside a paper to reach up and touch his cheek lightly. Russia blinked and turned to stare.

“What is it, Prusska?”

Gilbert laughed at the endearment. “Shit, do I look that cute down here?”

Russia blushed at him and stared back. “I do not know what you mean.”

“Your face says otherwise,” Gilbert teased. “Is the paperwork really that important?”

“It is not.”

“I don't think you ever answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Do you not like sex, any sex? Are you still just not interested? I don't care if you are or not, but I don't want to be flirting if it's bugging you.”

Russia stared at his paperwork again, but didn't raise his hand to write anything. He stretched out his writing hand and exhaled. “I haven't given it much thought.”

“Does the flirting bother you?”

“It does not, no. I would rather you flirt with me than pick a fight right now.”

Gilbert groaned. “This isn't an either/or question, Russia, I'm not gonna stop picking a fight when I need one just because I can flirt with you instead.”

“That is not comforting,” Russia said mildly.

“It's not supposed to be.”

“Ah. You are honest, at least. Usually.”

“When it suits me.” Gilbert grinned and turned onto his back to stretch out his body with a happy groan. Russia rested a hand on his chest lightly and Gilbert batted his hand off the top of his chest. “Oi, not there.”

“Why not?” Russia asked, completely confused.

Gilbert sighed and rolled onto his stomach again, his shoulder brushing Russia's hip. “I don't like people touching that place.”

“Because you have breasts?”

Gilbert made a soft hissing noise, but he'd known he'd have to have this conversation with him either way. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Is this related to you... your gender, and that it doesn't match?”

“The short version, yeah.” Gilbert pulled his face up from the pillow so his voice wasn't muffled worse. “The rest of sex doesn't bother me as much as that does. My back and my stomach and my arms are fine, just not that part.”

“So you only do anal sex?”

“I didn't say that. It doesn't bother me; I like sex, I might as well use it for the fun stuff.”

Russia snorted loudly and rested his hand on Gilbert's back, stroking along the edge of his spine. Gilbert shivered, nervous for a moment he might hurt him, but pushing the concern aside. If Russia wanted to hurt him, he had just about any option he wanted. Offering him sex didn't give him more.

For the moment, however, Russia didn't do anything else for sex and when Gilbert chanced a look up at him he was reading the paperwork again. Gilbert didn't say anything, not wanting to make him feel rushed. 

He'd almost dozed off waiting when Russia shifted and got up, then came back from his desk to put a hand on Gilbert's back again. 

“Do you still wish to have sex?” Russia asked. 

“Yeah?” Gilbert smiled happily up at him and then made a startled noise as Russia pulled his shirt up. Russia halted, his eyes worried.

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah, wow, just surprised me.” Gilbert grinned and pulled his shirt the rest of the way off. Russia eyed the binder he was using – a lace-up type similar to a corset that he'd had for ages now – and moved to take off Gilbert's pants. Gilbert groaned, not sure if he wanted to object to being stripped first or if he was deeply aroused by how blunt he was being.

Russia looked up at his face again, his expression limited still but Gilbert just smiled back and happily licked his lips. 

“Were you doing something?” Gilbert smirked. 

Russia smiled, and Gilbert swallowed at his face. Something wriggled a little in his stomach at the cold-haughty gleam in his eyes, his closed chilly smile and the little scratches he got from his nails as Russia pulled his pants down. 

He hadn't been wearing underwear or a packer – didn't have the energy, and nobody who mattered was going to see him without it here – so Russia had the full view of his body from the end of the bed, up his legs and stomach to his tousled hair, and Gilbert could return the favour.

He really couldn't decide if he wanted Russia to undress or not, not the least of which was because of the boots he had on. Gilbert bit his lips and Russia touched his mouth and gently pulled his lip free with his thumb.

“What is it?” he asked softly. 

“Can't decide if I want you to undress or not.”

“Ah?” Russia smiled again and Gilbert squirmed a little further under him, his body already tight at the thought. “You like this?” 

Russia laughed at the question, tugging self-consciously at the somewhat threadbare sweater he was wearing. His pants were no more remarkable, although Gilbert was too familiar with the Russian uniform to not recognize that they were the same make. He suspect Russia simply had chosen them by accident.

“Maybe take your shirt off and leave the pants on?” Gilbert asked, then added for clarity, “and the boots.”

“Ah, yes.” Russia pinched Gilbert's lip and knelt on the bed to untuck his shirt and pull it up over his head. “I should not be surprised, should I?”

“Kinda, yeah.” Gilbert laughed. “It hardly takes a gambling man to bet I like it.”

“Can you tell me when they're from?”

“When?” Gilbert asked. He sat up a little to get a better look and glanced up at Russia again and felt his face heat. Russia smiled back down at him and leaned on the bedpost of the footboard to lift one leg and place his booted foot up by Gilbert's waist. Gilbert looked between his chest and his boot, unsure which one he wanted to stare at more.

“Tell me what year, what wars it's from.”

“It's not that old, it's at least from the last fifty years,” Gilbert said. “Unless you never wear your boots.” He turned and ran his hands lightly over the leather, sighing a little in contentment. He glanced up at Russia and bent to kiss the leather over his shin. “You don't take good enough care of them.”

“Does it make you sad?” Russia asked, his mouth in a thin smile.

Gilbert opened his mouth and bit his shin, tasting leather and gunpowder, dirt and oil and moaned. He ran his fingers over the buckles and sutures in the leather before Russia stroked his side and he let go with a content noise.

“The Great War,” he said, leaning back into Russia's hand. “The ones issued to the command. Were they a gift from the Tzar before he fell?”

Russia knelt over his legs again and nodded, a small curious smile on his face. “You really can tell?”

“Yeah,” Gilbert breathed. “They're nice boots. You might have the bite mark stuck, though.”

“It will be nice to explain.” Russia bent down to kiss him, one hand stretched out to open the side table and place two things on the bed next to him. Gilbert didn't look beyond noticing the motion, more attentive to the battle with his tongue in his mouth and digging his fingers into Russia's hair. Russia gasped and clung to him in return, his hands gliding down his sides, over and over until he cupped Gilbert's ass in his hands and pulled it open. “You wish me to fuck you?”

“Please,” Gilbert moaned. “Don't care where.”

“I should fuck your mouth,” Russia said. “To make you shut up.”

Gilbert laughed. “You could.”

He slipped his fingers inside his vagina and Gilbert moaned loudly. 

“You really do like this?” Russia asked. 

“Hell yes. Stop worrying about me and do it.”

Russia nodded and pushed his body up. Gilbert glanced down and watched him open his pants and pull his cock out. He bit down on a swear at how big he was – not scary big, but definitely worth note – and made an amused noise as he slipped on a condom. Anticipation made him squirm as Russia added lube as well before he moved to put his cock between his legs and thrust inside.

Gilbert's head rocked back with a gasp and he closed his eyes in bliss. Russia dropped onto his body and kissed down his neck as he rested inside him.

“You like that, da?” Russia breathed.

“Oh, yes,” Gilbert groaned. “You're so damn nice.”

“Thank you.”

“Wasn't a compliment. You're like a stupid knight or something. I told you to fuck me, why aren't you doing it?”

Russia snorted and lifted off his body, a rising tide that bumped up inside him and Gilbert tucked his legs over his hips, his arms around his neck as Russia pushed his hips down and thrust into him. 

Gilbert opened his mouth in a grin and pulled him into his body.

“Yes, that's it! Fuck yes!”

“You are loud,” Russia said.

“Make me shut up,” Gilbert said, almost breathless.

Russia covered his mouth with his own and bite his lip, not enough to bleed, but perhaps – and Gilbert lost himself in the taste of him and the ride on his body. He dropped one of his hands to touch himself, gasping and writhing against him until Russia stopped and shuddered over him and then waited, quiet and still until Gilbert crushed his mouth against him and finished himself. 

Russia kissed his temple and pulled out, removed the condom and dropped it aside before he lay down next to Gilbert and cuddled him against his chest. “Was that what you wanted?”

Gilbert tangled his legs against Russia's with a content noise. “Yeah. You gonna kick me out of your room now?”

“I can let you sleep here. Are you cold?”

“Ke!” Gilbert laughed. “You're a fucking heater, how could I be cold?”

He yelped as Russia nuzzled his neck again, then relaxed into the man's happy noise.

“So are you,” Russia said.

“Course I am,” Gilbert muttered. He closed his eyes and relaxed.

**Author's Note:**

> Food stuff: Olivye was just whatever I first found when I searched typical Russian lunches. It's apparently a dish made of potatoes, hard-boiled eggs, carrots, pickles, chicken or ham, and mayonnaise. Lunch in Russia is usually the larger meal of the day and has a heavy salad, soup, and a meat dish. Obviously on grocery day things would be missing.


End file.
